Humanity
by Shidract
Summary: What does it mean to be human? An OC-based fic taking place amongst the glorious lights of Las Vegas, explores one man's changing views on mankind's technological-based evolution, as he gets drawn into the darker side of Vegas.
1. Chapter 1

_It's the year 2035. Mankind has began to deviate from the path of evolution, taking it into their own hands. From what began as medical implants and advanced prosthetic limbs has exploded into a business of augmentation, where everyone and anyone, with the money, can go under the knife in order to gain an upper hand with computer and mechanical-based enhancements. Now in a time of change, it's rare for any one person to not have a computer chip implanted in their brain or a bionic limb enhancement that aids them in their day-to-day life. The corporations dealing in these augmentations are in a place of power, matching, if not bettering, the governments across the world. But with these enhancements comes added danger. Crime rates have rocketed, and despite attempts to quell the continuous arguments between pro and anti-augmentation groups, riots are not an uncommon sight across the globe. So while mankind strives to raise itself, take control of its own future, it seems that these technological advances come with the declination and possible loss of humanity itself._

It seemed that while time and technology had changed the whole world, one brightly lit city in the west of America appeared to have embraced the change the most. While other cities had slowly and reluctantly succumbed to technological advances over the past decade, Las Vegas seemed to have positively exploded with new tech. Of course, there was no way that the neon lights of Vegas could possibly be left in the past, so it was understandable that it was happy to be one of the leading cities in advancements. every hotel and casino, every road, every sidewalk were subjected to some new form of bizarre enhancement. Almost every inch of space that wasn't taken up by a glittering casino and hotel had some kind of advertisement, namely for the various augmentation clinics that had sprung up across the city enthusiastically. But there were also other more straightforward adverts, making the most of the past few years technological jump. Gone were the days of 3D images on LED billboards, now in their places were holograms, reaching out to passers by, luring them with holographic gambling chips or excessive and barely concealed cleavages.

As always, Las Vegas had no care in the world about their electrical usage. Not that it had to worry, as it knew that somewhere, in the depth of a laboratory, there would be someone coming up with a way to fix any up and coming energy shortages.

Las Vegas had changed drastically over the last few short years. Despite all the economic pressures, the rising and falling of stocks and shares, and all the screaming and shouting about debt, Las Vegas still prevailed. And it didn't just carry on; it seemed to positively thrive, as if in its own little bubble, ignorant of the global crises wracking the world. Like the augmentation corporations, Las Vegas just grew and grew. While the world seemed to fall apart, what better way to spend the day than drinking and gambling away the cursed money in the comfort of the sparkling lights of the desert city?

The city, once the gambling capital of the world, also became synonymous for the number of augmentation clinics. In a city were gambling was an art, it was understandable that hundreds of thousands of gamblers wanted someway, anyway, to enhance their chances at hitting the jackpot in the tough economic times.

Both clinics and casinos seemed to spring up out of nowhere, any while their primary objects was to clamour for a prime spot near or on the Strip to rake in the money, with each new building came a huge influx of new jobs, luring people to the city with the promise of a secure lifestyle and an occupation that would last a lifetime, with a permanent and reliable income.

In a world where there were constant rises and falls in the global economy, Las Vegas was viewed as one of the few places in the world that seemed immune to outward forces. It strove forwards, making headway with the futuristic technology that allowed it to keep afloat no matter what came its way.

But beneath all the glitz and glamour, the flowing money and the flashing lights, there of course lay a darker side.

Backstreet augmentation clinics, running off smuggled and stolen goods. Gangs warring in the streets behind the glittering casinos, their illegal augmentations, many of which were of a military level, causing havoc. Riots breaking out over the simplest of things, be it a small dispute of the closing of a neighbourhood convenience store to the closing of one of the high-rise casinos.

For most, this darker Las Vegas was easily overlooked, always skimmed over in the news to make the city seem like an oasis in tough times. But for those that lived and worked in Vegas, many knew what the city was hiding, and some were just waiting for the chaos in the darkness to bubble up and spread into the centre of the city and destroy it's isolated economy.

Devin Grayson was one of these people. One of the many residents waiting for the day when the blissful ignorance of Las Vegas was shattered with the cold, hard reality of chaos. He'd lived in the city all his life, watched it grow and expand in a way that no other city could have even dreamt to in the twenty-first century. He'd always been hopeful, nowhere else offering the prospect of a secure job life Vegas. For that reason, the moment he left school, he'd jumped onto the career ladder. The bottom rung had consisted of meagre work, down in the depth of one of the less glamorous hotels that served the rougher side of humanity. But starting off with this firm base had allowed Grayson to power to the top of his chosen job occupation with one of, if not the, top hotels on the Strip, by the time he was thirty.

As head of the games surveillance team at the Rosso e Nero hotel and casino, situated right in the centre of the Strip, where it had replaced the two aging and decaying casinos, the Bellagio and Caesar's Palace, Grayson couldn't have asked for a better job. He was in a position of some power, which did wonders for his ego, and his yearly wage was better than he could ever have dreamed of as a boy. And as a bonus, he loved every moment of his job.

There was just something about sitting in a plush backroom, surrounded by a range of monitors all steaming a live feed from every inch of the luscious casino that made him feel content. He was good at his job too, usually able to spot any kind of incident before it had even had the chance to develop or even begin to play out. As a valuable member of the casino's security, Grayson never had to fear for his job.

Until one day.

One day when Las Vegas's constant pushing of its futuristic boundaries saw Grayson's life head down a new path, one where there was no turning back.


	2. Chapter 2

"With all due respect, Mister Clayton, sir, you can't actually be serious?" Grayson looked torn between horror and disgust.

"Listen, Devin. I know you're rather against anything like this, but you have to understand, times are changing and we've got to keep up with them. My casino has to remain at the top, and to do so we have to therefore keep on top of all developments," Clayton folded his hands on the broad, dark oak desk that separated him from his employee. Behind him, from the ninety-ninth floor of the Rosso e Nero, Las Vegas sprawled out across the flat desert, flashing and variously coloured lights stretching out through the darkness.

It was taking all of Grayson's self control not to just stare past his boss at the sparkling lights and pretend that the conversation they were currently having was not real.

"Sir, I just…" Grayson started again, shaking his head, "I can understand why you want this. But surely it doesn't have to be a rule? I've been working with you for the past ten years, surely that must count for something?"

"Of course it does," Clayton nodded, "Your loyalty to me, my casino and our patrons knows no bounds. But this is going to be a legal requirement for all my employees, and despite your views and our past together, you cannot be exempt."

As Grayson shook his head again and leant back chair, Clayton put his hands on the desk between them and pushed himself upright. He then turned his back on Grayson as he made his way across the room to the floor to ceiling windows, where he stopped and gazed out across the city that he and his casino dominated.

"Listen Devin," Clayton spoke up again, "If it makes any difference, I will offer to pay for the procedures that you need to undergo to be made up-to-date."

Grayson had just been about to pick up a glass of scotch from the desk, but it was a good thing he'd not yet had a chance to take a sip, as it would no doubt have been sprayed across the room, "Sir? Keep make me 'up-to-date'?" he was completely incredulous, "This isn't about money, it's about exactly that comment. I feel I don't need to go and shove bits of metal in my brain, eyes or ears for me to be able to keep my job. I can't possibly be outdated, when I'm simply fully human."

"I'm sorry Devin, I would have thought you'd have understood that as the city progresses, we must follow her into the future," Clayton sighed, turning around to face Grayson, "I had hoped to make you see sense."

"I'm sorry sir, but I can't possibly just go to one of the clinics and get these bionic enhancements you've listed, just because it's becoming a rule that all employees must have them," Grayson shook his head.

"Then there seems to be no other option than for me to let you go," Clayton sighed again.

Grayson quite literally had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying something he knew he'd regret, so he just nodded stiffly. Short of him caving in and undergoing the augmentations his boss was proposing, he knew there was nothing more he could do. Especially as there was no chance he'd ever set foot in one of those stark, white buildings where he would be forced to trade in little pieces of his humanity for something that might possibly make his life a little easier, but would also force him to become reliant on a range of painkillers and drugs until the day he died.

"I really will be sad to see you go," Clayton looked genuinely sombre at the thought, "And for that reason, before I strike you from the Rosso e Nero family completely, I'll give you a chance I wouldn't offer others. For the next four months, you will be suspended, but with complete pay. If, during those four months you do undergo the treatment, then you are more than welcome to return to your post. If, by the time those months are up, you have not, then you will be lost to us permanently. This may not be ideal, but trust me Devin, this is a show of goodwill that no other employee in this entire hotel will have the chance to experience."

Again, Grayson responded with a stiff nod. It was generous of his employer, but Grayson knew that in four months time, he would still be entirely human. Not even the threat of losing his permanent job could make him turn his back on his humanity. Still, the four months of pay would hopefully tide him over until he found another hotel to take him on. If they too hadn't decided to bring in this ridiculous new clause where all employees were to have at least one work related augmentation.

Grayson fully understood the applications of enhancements and augmentations, especially in the medical field where both doctors and patients alike were able to benefit from the new technologies. If someone had lost their sight, why not return it to them? If they had lost a limb, why not offer them a replacement? He could see nothing wrong with that. But when it simply came down to pushing human evolution forward, just because they could, where people were sacrificing their hearts and limbs just to add that little something extra to their daily lives, Grayson just couldn't see the point. He was a humanist. Enhancement to those who suffered was acceptable. Those who were being enhanced for, say, their job, that wasn't, not to him.

So, knowing that the conversation was over, with nothing more either of them could say or do, Grayson straightened up. As he did so he picked up the glass of scotch and knocked it back quickly before setting the now empty glass back down.

Before Grayson turned for the door, his eyes locked with his boss's briefly.

"We are very sad to see you go," Clayton told him sincerely, "But do hope to have you back soon."

This time Grayson didn't hold his tongue, "Not likely," he grunted, "Not so long as you want your staff to be made of more metal than flesh."

Clayton just clicked his tongue lightly and turned his attention back to the city spread out beneath him, leaving Grayson to walk to the elevator at the back of the room in silence.

It wasn't quite walk of shame, Grayson neither having resigned nor been fired, but it still seemed to take forever. Each step he took, his booted feet sinking into the overly plush shag pile carpet, seemed to get harder. He was walking away from his job, his livelihood, pushed away because his boss wanted him to trade in his humanity. In this day and age, where people were becoming augmented as if it were going out of fashion, surely there were people who'd understand those who strove to keep hold of what made them human?

But of course not. Grayson should have seen it coming. As a world-leading casino, it had to keep up to date. And up-to-date meant cybernetically enhanced employees, be them bar staff, croupiers or surveillance officers like himself. It had been only a matter of time before he'd have had to decide between augmentations or his job.

On reaching the lift, he jabbed the call button rather harder than necessary, sending a shooting pain along his finger and up his arm. He'd been prepared to wait awkwardly for the lift to slid up to him, but luckily as soon as his arm had dropped back to his side, the doors slid open, allowing him to enter the small cylindrical space.

Turning around to face the door and the numbered console, he was somewhat relieved to see that Clayton still had his back to him. With the range of emotions that he knew were playing across his face, Grayson didn't want them to part on any worse terms.

So he hit the lift button for the bottom floor, careful to moderate his strength this time, allowing the doors to ease themselves shut, sealing him in the metal and glass tube as it began its rapid decent down the hundred storey building.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a good thing that it was the end of his shift, Grayson thought as he glanced at the hefty piece of technology strapped to his wrist, which not only allowed him constant and live access to the majority of security cameras scattered across the casino, but also doubled up as a handy watch. The last thing he would have wanted to do was wander aimlessly about the building, wondering if his 'suspension' was instant or took effect at the end of that day. But luckily, since his day over, he was free to go back to his apartment, located behind the casino, and mope. Perhaps even begin the no doubt long and arduous task of finding somewhere that would offer someone without augmentations a job. He might even feel inclined to let his parents know that his anti-enhancement stance had lost him his job; they might enjoy that news.

The ride to the bottom floor took less than thirty seconds, the well-oiled lift gliding to a halt as it reached the ground level, its doors opening.

With many other casinos, the direct lift up to the owner's private accommodation and offices was behind secure doors, with receptionists and bodyguards galore, but Clayton liked to rely solely on the, supposedly, hack-proof lift that opened straight out onto the bustling casino floor.

It was times like this, when out on the open floor, that Grayson often wished that he always carried his sunglasses. Usually, if he knew he'd be working on the floor, then there was no way he'd leave home without them. While in the past twenty years casinos remained true to their core, with the clattering of coins, faint music and yells of both horror and euphoria, with the introduction of new machines, the light intensity seemed to have doubled, if not tripled. The flashing and blinking lights attached to the multitude of different hi-tech slot machines were positively migraine-inducing, if not blinding. Grayson had even heard tales of men going blind from spending so much time in the casinos. But they had soon returned to the gambling floor, with new cybernetic eyes, most likely paid for by their winnings.

But unlike them, Grayson valued his eyes, so half squinting, half trying to shield his vision with an arm, he stepped out of the lift and began to weave his way across the casino floor through the throngs of people.

He kept his eyes turned downwards, both for added protection against the lights, but also so that he avoided catching the gazes of any of the gamblers. In his black suit and red tie, he was clearly marked out as a Rosso e Nero security employee, and the last thing he wanted was someone to wrangle him and drag him into some kind of dispute that might take hours to resolve. Normally, he would have enjoyed being roped into anything and everything happening in the casino, but as of then, all he wanted was to get home, pour himself a glass of something strong and sit down with an e-book. He'd long since decided that watching the TV was not the best of ideas when he wanted to distance himself from augmentations, especially when there seemed to always be some kind of advertisement scrolling rapidly across the bottom of the screen while the news reported on the various riots around the world.

It didn't take him long to navigate his way across the gambling floor and to the private backdoor exit for employees. He tapped in the passkey on the screen to unlock it, before he slipped out quickly, careful to shut it securely behind him.

Out of the blinding lights, Grayson let his arm drop from where it had been shielding his eyes, allowing him to glance around in the darkness.

At the back of the hotel, around from the expansive swimming pool, he was surrounded by the masses of rubbish bins that seemed to constantly be overflowing with items chucked out from the hotel and casino. But Grayson paid them no mind, well used to the overpowering stench, and just glanced over his shoulder as he began to make his way down the alley towards a small tower block set towards the back of the main casino.

Behind him, just past the red lights of the Rosse e Nero, he could make out the Strip, automobiles rushing up and down it, always in the hurry to get somewhere. With all the other casinos lining the street trying to outdo each other in their nighttime light displays, there seemed to always be a constant glow of light surrounding the city, giving it an almost ethereal feeling. It was just another reason why Grayson loved Las Vegas. He'd spent his life there, grown with it. He'd quickly learnt that it wasn't just any other city in America, let alone the world. It had a personality, with quirks both good and bad. Not a day passed where nothing different or exciting happened.

He may have just lost his job, but no matter how hard it would be to find another, he'd never leave the city and its glittering lights. He was by no means ignorant to all that went on in the backstreets and the illegal clinics, having had to deal with countless unsavoury customers in the casino, but he believed that no matter what, there was some good left in Las Vegas and to benefit from the good, you had to embrace the bad. Even with the freely flowing money and the crippling debts the casino floors could inflict without a second thought.

As he walked, Grayson kept snatching glances over his shoulder at the sprawl behind him, as he always did when making his way to his apartment. And as he always did too, when he came up to the main entrance of the resident block, he paused for a moment, taking in one last view of the Strip. Sadly his apartment faced the opposite way and offered the least favourable view of the dark backstreets.

But once he'd had his last glimpse, he turned back to the double doors and pushed through them, striding across the faux marble floor towards the lift at the far end of the reception area. Grayson was sure he spent more time in a lift than anywhere else now that they seem to have done away with stairs in most buildings, going against health and safety.

He acknowledged the woman manning the reception desk with a quick and lazy half salute, inkling his head briefly at the same time. As usual, she just regarded him rather blankly; too busy staring at the large TV mounted on the wall opposite her, numerous images from around the world flashing up across its extent. As he hit the button and waited for the lift, Grayson glanced around, looking anywhere other than the TV. He'd like a blissfully ignorant, introspective evening for a change.

So instead, while he waited for the lift to work its way down to him, he busied himself by scanning the people scattered across the lounge area in the reception, over by the large TV. He couldn't stop his eyes from lingering momentarily each time they passed over someone with an obvious augmentation, such as a limb or who knew what kind of implants in their skin. He wanted to be the better man, the one who put natural humanity first and not technological advancements in human evolution, but he couldn't help but feel a little bitter towards those who'd undergone the treatments and surgeries. They wouldn't be losing their jobs, of that he was sure.

His attention was drawn back to the lift when it gave a light ping and its doors clunked open. So looking away from the room, he stepped back into it, slamming a hand at the button for the twenty-third floor. As his hand went down to his side, the doors juddered shut just before it began the slow journey upwards. Anyone would have thought that with the apartments belonging to the Rosso e Nero, that it everything would be top notch. But apparently not. Oil was clearly better spent in the antique slot machines that were tucked in a corner of the gambling floor, rather on the employee's lift.

As the lift juddered on upwards, Grayson was suddenly struck by a thought.

If he left the Rosso e Nero family, surely he'd lose his apartment too?

His rent usually came out of his salary and most, if not all, the other people living in the block worked for Clayton. The loss of his apartment hadn't come up in the brief discussion, but perhaps it came with the job. Lose your job, lose your home. There was a fine line that separated those living on the Strip and those on the streets.

Grayson could just about deal with the idea that he'd blown his job over refusing augmentations, but his apartment too? It was almost too ridiculous for him to comprehend.

Maybe after a good drink and a full night's sleep his mind would be in a better state to be able to handle things. As it was, he was quite sure that the reality hadn't set in yet, especially since he felt relatively calm and collected for a man who could suddenly be facing losing everything he'd worked for. Tomorrow morning, he'd either be able to face facts with dignity or loose his mind and dissolve into panic. Though Grayson did prefer the first option.

Eventually the aged lift reached the twenty-third floor, and Grayson quickly exited it, making his way down the long corridor, the walls splashed with red and black paint. The aim was for it to somewhat resembled the Rosso e Nero casino, but in most cases it looked like someone had been murdered along the hall, their body removed but their blood left for all the world to see. Many employees had voiced this point, but they had been ignored, leaving them to walk the faux blood splattered corridors to and from their apartment.

Luckily though, Grayson had had the sense to redecorate his home so that once he'd pressed his right hand against the finger print scanner and pushed into his apartment and flicked on the lights, which were slightly more subtle than those in the casino, he was greeted with cool blue and cream walls. As soon as he kicked the door shut behind him, he drifted into the kitchen, opened a cupboard and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. He mused over picking up a glass and some ice for a moment, before deciding that would mean more washing up. So he just snatched up a bag of chips and hugged the bottle to his chest before heading back into the main room, dominated by a large TV taking up one wall and a plush white sofa in the centre.

Grayson kicked his shoes off as he threw himself across the sofa lengthways, grunting quietly as he sunk into the seat. Might as well make the most of the comfort, he thought as he stretched out along it. In four months time he might be trading the cushions for concrete.

The thought made him grunt again, this time in irritation. Life really liked its twists and turns.

So, pushing all thoughts of redundancy, homelessness and augmentations to the back of his mind, Grayson unscrewed the lid of the whiskey bottle and took a long draught, wincing slightly as it burnt the back of his throat. He then took a few more moderate sips before leaning across to the coffee table in front of it, which was scattered with papers, empty glasses and food wrappers. He brushed the majority of the rubbish onto the floor, exposing a couple of e-books, one of which he picked up. After a quick regard of the two, followed by a selection, he shifted himself back onto the sofa, and shuffled around a little to get comfortable. Placing the spirit bottle on his chest, he loosened his crimson tie around his neck, then sighed quietly as he settled back to read resigning to the words of fiction to remove him from the realm of reality.


	4. Chapter 4

That night Grayson didn't make it to his bed as he'd planned. The relaxing nature of reading coupled with a little too much drink eventually led him into a dreamless state. When he awoke the next morning he found himself sprawled across the sofa, empty whiskey bottle and e-book on the floor beside him. Coupled with the empty packets and wrappers he'd shoved off the coffee table, his living area looked a complete mess. And undoubtedly, so did he, he thought as he pushed a hand through his hair, grimacing as it caught in knots and clumps of hair product.

What a great way to start a productive day searching for a new job. A tip of an apartment, strongly in need of a shower, and somewhat hungover, judging by the occasional throbs at his temples.

As he pushed himself upright with a grunt and a groan, Grayson rubbed a hand across his eyes blearily, doing his best to wake himself up. A glance at his wrist told him it was almost midday, and quick look over his shoulder at the large window behind him confirmed this. Luckily the windows were tinted, saving him from having to recoil away from the bright sunshine like a vampire caught out in the daytime, but he still grimaced as the light stung his eyes slightly.

Forcing himself off the sofa, his legs very nearly collapsed from underneath him as he slipped on a wrapper of sorts, but he quickly righted himself by grabbing hold of the chair's arm, using it to steady himself. He kept hold of it for the next couple of paces before propelling himself in the direction of his bedroom and it's en suite bathroom.

Reaching it without much more incident, Grayson wasted little time in staring at himself in the mirror above the sink and just quickly striped free of his clothes, his once neatly ironed suit falling into a crumpled pile in the bathroom doorway. Soon he was standing under a steaming hot jet of water, letting his mind go blank, thoughts being washed away with the dirt and grim, swirling away down the plughole. He almost forgot that he was in the shower to do more than just stand there, and it took him a good while to remember that he needed to wash himself and his hair, even if it was a quick and half-hearted attempt.

When he finally re-emerged into his cool bathroom a good half an hour later, mirror fogged up and water droplets rolling down the walls, Grayson quickly rubbed his hair with a towel before slinging it around his waist. There was no reason to get dressed, no urgency in getting anything done, so he could take it easy for now.

Stepping over his pile of clothes, he padded across his bedroom, leaving a trail of damp footprints in the carpet behind him as he moved over to his desk, also piled high with junk that needed to be chucked out. There he jabbed a finger at his computer, causing it to whir to life as he sat down heavily on the chair to wait for it to start up.

In an almost religious fashion, once the computer was up and he'd tapped in his password, he opened up a number of commonly visited pages before clicking on his emails.

As usual there were a few spam-related ones, one from his sister planning on visiting him from Washington DC with her family and another about the new employment rules at the Rosso e Nero. All of them were selected and dragged into the waste bin to be disposed of, none of them holding any interest.

But, just as he was watching them being erased one by one, another email flagged up in his inbox, filling the previously empty space.

As he read the address and title, Grayson's brown furrow and he unconsciously leant towards the screen as if it would help him understand the mystery email. It clearly wasn't from anyone he knew, and it just didn't look like a spam or virus that might wreak havoc with his all ready rather old and crippled machine. He was unsure about opening it, but when the subject title was "Change", he couldn't help but be intrigued.

So after a moment of hesitation, his mouse wavering back and forth across the screen, he finally opened the email and ran his eyes over the short paragraph quickly.

_It has come to our attention, Mr Grayson, that you lost your job as of yesterday through the refusal to undergo surgery and receive augmentations aimed to aid you in your workplace. You are not alone in this refusal, nor are you alone in your silent resistance to the technological enhancement of humanity. People like us, the ones who still believe in mankind, need to make a stand. We will make our voices heard, and we will change the prejudices that those have developed against what was once the natural human form. If you are interested in a chance to speak out, to regain your job and help others alike, there is a gathering behind the disused MGM hotel this evening at seven o'clock. We hope to have you onboard with us, and look forward to your presence._

There was no name, no signature. Just a simple invitation. One which intrigued him.

Grayson knew there were groups out there who were actively against augmentations, some of them the reasons behind a number of riots in Las Vegas. They protested, shouted, and generally were violent, therefore leading to them being crushed and ignored. If he'd thought that they might have ever stood a chance at making a point, Grayson might just have been tempted to join in these attempts at a humanitarian front. But they all seemed petty, made up of the lesser of society who were generally just out to get a rise from those above them.

But this email… This didn't seem to have that undertone.

It seemed structured, ordered, it had purpose. There was no mention of protesting, no mention of violence. It sounded as though someone had had the common sense to start up a peaceful protest and do things by the book. It may in the end be less dramatic and take more time, but people were more inclined to listen to demands when they didn't have a gun to their head or their store window had just been smashed in.

The location left a lot to be desired and seemed just a little too shady for Grayson's liking, but it was understandable. This was a group that didn't want to be destroyed before it had even begun. It wanted to be careful with when and where it showed its face as well as how.

But was he stupid enough to attend a completely random meeting from a complete stranger? He knew that it was easy enough to find his email address, as it was undoubtedly associated with the casino's web pages, and he also knew that it was likely a good number of people already knew about his redundancy. In a casino and Las Vegas in general, small mutterings quickly spread like wildfire. But as for going along to this 'secret' meeting… He wasn't sure.

Grayson knew how to protect himself, both using his fists and a gun. He had his standard work-issue pistol in the top draw of his desk, fully loaded and ready just in case, right now. But did he really just want to wander jovially into what could be a trap?

But why would anyone want to lure him into a trap in the first place?

Yes, his job was relatively high profile, but since he'd lost it, if someone wanted to use him to gain access to the casino and the security cameras, it was pointless. There was nothing else special about him. He didn't have some rare augmentation or enhancement that could be exploited, nor a particularly noteworthy talent, unless the email sender wanted someone who was adept at playing tennis or fencing, perhaps even at the same time. He was just another person in a million, made even less special without any technology scattered throughout his body.

So, as he scanned the email again, Grayson decided to dismiss the idea that it was a trap. But while it could still be perfectly harmless and well intentioned, he planned to still take his firearm. When walking the Las Vegas streets at night, it was always best to be prepared, just in case.

The thought of letting someone know crossed his mind, but he didn't want to mention it to any of his friends or colleagues, all of whom had some kind of enhancement, visible or concealed. They already knew he wasn't entirely comfortable with augmentations, and they accepted his opinion, but telling them he might be signing up with a group against technological improvements to the human body might be pushing it too far. And while he kept in regular contact with his parents since they'd moved to London a few years back, he was a grown adult capable of looking after himself, and they'd surely worry about him. He didn't even entertain the possibility of communicating with his sister. She was the last person he'd want to talk, even if it was just letting her know he might be walking to his untimely death that night, as told by his rapid deleting of her email.

Grayson supposed he was on his own then. Him and his pistol with the limited spare ammunition that he kept in his apartment.

After one more look over the email, musing over his options briefly again, he finally clicked the reply button and quickly typed in a short and simple response, using the lightly glowing keyboard beneath the screen.

_I'll be there._

Almost as soon as his finger had hit the enter button, whisking the email away, another email appeared in his inbox alongside the other.

_We're glad you'll be joining us._

Sweet and simple, Grayson was somewhat disturbed by the speed at which he'd received the acknowledgement. Either they just happened to still be at the computer after sending the first email, or they had been waiting for him to respond.

Either way, he was now disinclined to be backing out anytime soon. He'd made a decision and he was going to see it through.

Taking one last look at the two emails from the unknown sender, Grayson ran both hands through his hair, one at a time. As water was flicked across the screen in front of him, he was reminded that he was still wearing only a towel, and while the meeting was a good few hours away, he now had a reason to get dressed. What he was going to wear though, was a decision he knew might take a while.

As a man who prided himself in his appearance and how he presented himself to others, the act of dressing for an unknown meeting was going to take some thought. It was a good thing that his wardrobe was crammed full of all kinds of garments for all kinds of occasions. Though he most likely hadn't foreseen a super secret meeting when purchasing clothes.


End file.
